


Twice Shot.

by TheDarkestMindWithin



Series: Whumptober 2019 [7]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete, Dark Will Graham, Drugged Will Graham, Gen, Hallucinations, Hallucinogens, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, One Shot, Stabbing, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019, Will Graham Has Nightmares, Will Graham is a Cannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-10-25 06:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20719535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkestMindWithin/pseuds/TheDarkestMindWithin
Summary: 'Ripper strikes again! Maims two unnamed FBI agents and kills a third.' He shuts his eyes and swallows, his hands feel warm again, sticky and metallic smelling. As if they've been dipped in blood again.Complete.





	Twice Shot.

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober Prompt: Bloody hands.
> 
> Without Beta.

_His blood pounds in his ears as he stares at his hands. Shaking and bloody. His chest constricts with every breath as his mind races with fractured pictures and melting words. Nothing makes sense, except for him. Except for his words that run down his ear like honey._

_Like sweet nothings between teenage lovers. as he tries to understand why his hands are bloody and where the blood is from. Who the blood is from._

_Will thinks back as he succumbs to the Ripper's will._

* * *

_Will._

I clear my throat as I knock the tips of my boots on the doorstep, shedding the built-up snow as I press the doorbell and wait for his answer. It's a freezing December night and snowing without any sign of stopping. The weather and time of year aside there was also another Ripper attack yesterday, grizzly. The images burn fresh in my memory and I flinch trying to escape them. Hannibal finally opens the door with his usual polite pleasantness.

"Hello, Will," His voice is, as always, warm and open as he takes my offered bottle of wine and stands aside to let my snow wet body inside. My face is red from the cold as Hannibal shuts the door behind me, shutting the cold out as he does.

"This is a wonderful bottle, Will." Hannibal says, admiring the year and percent as I take off my scarf, hat, coat and top jumper. He smiles at me when I look at him and feel my cheeks redden for reasons other than the cold, his praise always sparking the warm embers deep in my belly. He helps me hang my garments up besides his, I take off my leather gloves, Hannibal eagerly taking them, his warm fingers brushing my cooler ones as he does. Goosebumps break out over my skin.

"How was your journey with the snow?" Hannibal asks as he leads me further into his refined home, the wood polished beneath my now sock-clad feet, he leads us into his pristine kitchen as I detail my mundane journey, the kitchen is warm and the stone floor is warm beneath my feet. Herbs and spices and the mouthwatering scent of slow cooked meat and onion filter through my senses as he offers me a seat at the breakfast table as he goes to fetch us glasses for the wine. I suppose he must really like it if he's willing to drink it with me present.

Usually Hannibal disposes of the culinary gifts he receives from his friends through his patients or dinner parties. He thinks no-one notices and no-one does, except for myself but I don't let on that I know his tricks.

"Dinner won't be long but if you are ravenous I can fix you up something, a light starter?" Hannibal offers as he holds out my glass of wine, I decline and take the offered glass as he takes the seat opposite me. He's dressed down this evening, I wonder if it's because this was a spur-of-the-moment dinner or if he simply felt comfortable enough that he didn't feel the need for his guard of fine suits and aloof humour. Either way I was more than happy to spend time with the unshaven and sweatpants clad Hannibal that sat a little lazily in his chair in front of me.

He appeared less therapist like, perhaps I liked that he looked like he was having dinner with a friend rather than a client.

"I trust Jack told you already?" I say because I can't escape the want to, the Ripper on my mind more and more the longer his crimes go on. Though the horror of his crimes took second place now to the beauty I found in them, much to my distress.

A growing blood lust that I didn't like in myself. Hannibal hums as he sips the wine, he swirls it around his tongue for a moment before he swallows and turns his eyes to mine.

"The Ripper's latest victim?" I nod as I regard my own glass, inhaling the sweet scent as Hannibal set his glass down on the table and gets to his feet.

"Yes, he mentioned it. He also mentioned his growing worry for you." His bare feet pad across the stone floor, accompany his words as he goes to retrieve the meat from the oven, I watch him as he sets the meat out to rest for a moment as he fills two plates full of vegetables, potatoes and gravy.

"Not your traditional refined meals, Hannibal." I say as he puts finely cut meat onto our plates and crosses the room, smiling as he sets my plate down before me. It's reminiscent of a roast dinner.

"I thought a little more intimacy may be welcome this evening." His eyes flicker to mine as he settles back into his seat and picks up his glass, smiling as he waits for my toast. I swallow and clink my glass to his before we begin eating.

The taste of the food is indescribable as it usually is and the meat flakes along my tongue, salty and soft. I hum according to my appreciation of the meal and blush when I find Hannibal's eyes on mine. Studying intently. He smiles as he chews his own food.

"I'm glad to hear verbalisation of your appreciation of my loins, Will." He says casually, tilting his head to drink the last of his wine, setting the glass carefully back onto the table before he selects the bottle of wine and pours himself another glass, topping my own up as he does.

"I can't seem to help myself." I say, the warmth of the fire crackling in the stone fireplace by the pantry's door. I fiddle at the neck of my jumper before finally deciding to remove it, pushing away from the table as I tug at the hem and lift it up over my head.

I drop the jumper on the floor besides my feet. I watch it drop in fuzzy slow motion, Hannibal taps my glass and summons me to drink more of the wine, I take a mouthful and savour the sweet bite the red liquid has as it passes over my tongue. Hannibal watches me and encourages me to drink until the wine is empty from my glass.

My body feels weighted not long after I place the glass down on the table, my fingers fumbling with my cutlery as I try to eat the food still on my plate with polite manners, I slouch in my chair as my head sinks. I want to sleep, maybe to fuck?

Hannibal is helping me to my feet as a loud ring screeches through the house, I wince in pain from the screech. I want to cover my ears but my body is too heavy. There's a loud bang that echoes through my body, my eyelids droop. I want to sleep.

"What did the Ripper do, Will?" His question feels like it's come from nowhere as I bring my gaze to Hannibal's face above mine, I frown when I find it melting like wax that's been lit for too long, there's a skeletal structure to his expression that still holds the beauty of his sloping cheekbones and red lips.

"He took - " I stares at my own hand, shaking, my fingers blue and blacken at the nail. My flesh is sallow and I wonder how I'm still alive with such an unhealthy colour. I don't feel as if I'm breathing.

"What's happening?" My voice echoes louder in my head and I find my thoughts sluggish. Loin. Loins. Pork. Human. The dots of these facts melt and fall away before I know which belongs to the other. Hannibal's face is half melted by now. I want to sleep. There was something in the food.

There's something about the food. I want water, my throat's dry.

There's a high-pitched ring through the house that draws me to the floor on my hands and knees, gasping as it crushes my head, Hannibal releases me from his grip. It's a gunshot, warm liquid trickles between my thighs and I feel my cheeks flush at the realisation that I've just pissed my pants.

"My, my, my. That was messy of you, Jack." Jack? Jack? Jack and Gill? My head spins as I try to grip at the smooth flooring beneath my hands, warm sticky liquid slips between my palms and the floor. I try to focus on it but fail. What's happening? The room melts around me, dark colours bleeding together, the fire under my skin burns my veins as I try to see past the melting wax.

Jack stands in the doorway of the kitchen, he's holding the gun that was just fired but no-one's been shot. Antlers as black as night and eyes as hollow as the deep sea with hollowed hungry cheeks stare at me through his face. His face is sunken and a mix of colours that only stir nausea, I don't want to look at him but I can only look at him. Only watch as his waxy flesh melts away in place of rotting bone and blistering flesh. Just like Hannibal.

"Will," He talks but his voice is twisted into a deep sucking whine, it makes my blood run cold. My knees are wet with liquid. Maybe there's a leak coming from somewhere. Hannibal's helping me back up onto my feet, there's a knife, heavy and shiny, in my hand. We're facing Jack but it's not Jack, it's a monster.

"You're going to kill the boy unless you put the gun down, Jack." Hannibal's voice is like honey trickling down my throat, I lean into his sturdy body as pain breaks at the corners of my mind, my stomach - 

I look down and find the source of the liquid.

My blood. Hannibal holds me when I lose my footing once more.

"It's okay, Will." His voice hurts my head, I try to climb inside of Hannibal, seeking his comfort as he places a knife handle into my bloody hand, he kisses the crook of my neck just before he pushes me, the gun goes again as I stumble into Jack, clinging to him for support. A high pitched whine escaping past his lips as I let my eyes open.

Jack's black antlers drip with venom and mould as Hannibal's lips gently caress my damp curls before closing my fingers around the knife's handle. He's behind me, holding me against Jack as the knife is sunk into his flesh. He whispers sweet nothings as he pulls my hand back, with it the knife, kisses my jaw as he pushes my hand forward again.

"It's going to be okay." The knife cuts flesh and bone and muscle, blood spews onto the floor, staining it red. I wonder if Hannibal will be angry about it.

Everything melts away as Jack splutters and falls to his knees at my feet. Our feet.

The monster dead as my hands bathe in his blood.

* * *

He startles in his hospital bed, sweaty and breathless. He's sitting up, his hands in fists in the sheets as he tries to escape the last claws of his dream, reliving that last night. He looks around himself, his hospital room still and quiet as he gingerly turns to pick up his glasses from the stand. The walls are a sterile white with blinds covering the windows to match, the furniture is simplistic. He looks out the window that overlooks the beach, the blind lets in cracks on the rising sun. The waves crashing calmly to shore can be faintly heard if he cranes his neck and holds his breath. Will lays back against his pillows and lets out a breath he'd been holding in.

The hospital room door slips open.

"You're not meant to be awake." His voice is quiet and there's a hint of scolding to it, Will watches him walk across the floor to the chair besides his bed, sighing as he settles down besides him. They study each other.

"Another bad dream?" Hannibal asks as he reaches to the side table, wetting a cloth in cold water before bringing it to Will's damp forehead and throat, it cools his body down as he lets his eyes flutter shut and swallows. He's safe with Hannibal.

"Jack - " He swallows as a shiver washes over him, he doesn't like thinking of Jack, the secret monster fighting Will all this time, he looks at Hannibal with grateful eyes as he washes the nape of his neck before leaving the cloth where he had found it.

"He'll never hurt you again, you're free." Hannibal promises, taking Will's hand in his own. Will nods and lays back in his bed, his eye catches the morning paper Hannibal had brought in with him as he does.

'_Ripper strikes again! Maims two unnamed FBI agents and kills a third._' He shuts his eyes and swallows, his hands feel warm again, sticky and metallic smelling. As if they've been dipped in blood again.

As if Jack's blood remains on his hands. Will wipes his hands on his sheets before succumbing to more sleep. He feels safer with Hannibal at his side.


End file.
